Cecilia's Secret

by Patricia Gallinetti

  Francesca insisted Cecilia and Ida move into the house with the family, it would be too lonely for them downstairs and she could help with Bernard, she stated that it would be warmer for the little one, now that winter was on the horizon. Cecilia and Ida moved into a large bedroom overlooking the garden and driveway, it was kind of Francesca, but she told them she was pleased to have them there.

  Cecilia sank into a depression, she was so homesick, she didn’t want to do anything and she became very thin and lost her appetite, she missed her mother and Helena. Thank God Ida was still with her. Eventually Francesca and Ida had enough, they agreed that Cecilia must pull herself together, they were afraid she would be unable to feed little Bernard. Slowly she came out of her depression and started taking an interest in the running of the farm. Bernard was a healthy little baby and was growing fast, he had the most beautiful green eyes and dark hair. She thought if Liam could see him now, there would be no doubt in his mind that Bernard was his child. She knitted a little blue bunny for Bernard, and Francesca gave her some material patterned with red polka dots which Cecilia fashioned into a bow tie and she called the bunny ‘Pete’. She remembered the African women and how they carried their babies while they worked and took to tying Bernard on her back while she went about her daily chores, he was a contented happy little farm boy. Ida fitted into the routine, she was enjoying the quiet life, it had been a bit hectic in Melbourne for her and she had always loved this place, she welcomed the memories of Remo and the little time she had enjoyed with her love.

  Once a week on a Thursday Piero would go into the Mercato, with his wares, he didn’t take his car, as petrol was scarce and he preferred his wagon and horse. The whole family accompanied him and when they reached the piazza they set up the wagon and proceeded to sell their fresh fruit and vegetables and Francesca’s bottled fruit. Giorgio ran around the square with the other children and the men brought their musical instruments. Bernard lay contentedly in the back of the wagon or if it was a warm sunny day, on a blanket on the ground next to the wagon, chuckling to himself and looking at his little fingers, he was an adorable chubby little baby. He was never without his bunny, he had to cuddle Pete before he could drop off to sleep. The toy became very grubby and Cecilia had to coax the baby to give it to her now and then for a wash.

  It was a simple and carefree existence. But, underlying this was always the thought of the war, they weren’t entirely cut off and news filtered through of the atrocities. To their horror they heard that Mussolini had opted to side with Hitler. Cecilia was terrified that one day there would be a knock on the door, authorities looking for her and Ida because they were Australian. In this country, they were the enemy. Cecilia had learned to speak Italian and although she struggled with a few words she was improving, and so was her accent. Ida knew the dialect well she was a bit rusty, but she soon grew proficient in the language. Francesca refused to let them speak English. Not many people called at the farm they were all too busy for casual neighbourly visits.

  Gradually Cecilia relaxed and began to enjoy her carefree life. Bernard was growing in leaps and bounds, he was speaking Italian fluently and he adored Giorgio, who regarded Bernard as his little brother. To help financially at the farm Cecilia decided to enquire about work at the little shop down the road, it wouldn’t be much, she could possibly leave Bernard with Francesca and Ida two or three days a week, the shop didn’t have a huge trade, maybe she could earn a little money,also get out for a break. Cecilia had told them all what she intended to do and the family was happy to watch Bernard for her.

  No more news came from home, although Piero went into Florence occasionally to check if maybe there would be a telegram or a letter, but nothing came, the last telegram from Agnes was to tell Cecilia they had received Ida’s news and Agnes was thrilled to be a Grandmother. She was relieved that Ida had decided to stay with Cecilia. Agnes also told them there had been no news of Liam. Usually when Piero arrived home from these trips he had tales of the war which was going badly for Italy.

  Winter, snow hemmed them in, it was bitterly cold. Cecilia enjoyed sitting in the fireplace holding Bernard and reading stories to him and Giorgio, her Italian was now perfect and nobody would suspect she was a foreigner. Ida would sit beside them, knitting, or she enjoyed helping Francesca with cooking the meals. When the children became restless, Cecilia and Giorgio with little Bernard, bundled up and played outside, building a snow man and lobbing snowballs at each other, Giorgio shrieking with laughter, Bernard chuckling, adorable dimples appearing in his cheeks, Cecilia thanked God he was such a healthy boy, as there was no possibility of getting any medical help if anything serious should go awry. Piero built them a sled and all of them would slide down the embankment just below the house and come to a stop with a jerk, sometimes falling off at the bottom. Laughing helplessly.

  New Year 1944, there was still no end to the war, they heard that there were Germans posted in most of the bigger towns in Tuscany, although, so far nobody had disturbed the family and they grew complacent, believing they were safe. There would be raids off and on in the town to check the citizen’s papers; the Nazi’s making sure that no partisans had been given refuge. Months before, Piero had very wisely, decided to try and get papers for Cecilia and Bernard, also Ida, who had reverted to her married name of Raimondi. Piero contacted a cousin who worked in the Municipal office in Tavarnelle and he had promised to see if he could find somebody in Florence and obtain legitimate documents. Thank God, he had managed and Piero’s cousin stated they would be almost impossible to fault - almost, they were genuine, not forgeries, except if somebody decided to make further enquiries. Cecilia looked Italian, with her dark hair, she spoke the Tuscan dialect fluently, the only give away may be Bernard because of his brilliant green eyes. They were all hopeful that no Nazis would go so far out of their way to check on them. Ida had fitted in perfectly, it was as if she had never left Italy.

  The two little boys were downstairs with Francesca and Ida in the kitchen, Cecilia tidying the bedrooms upstairs glanced out the window, she was thinking the weather would soon warm up - her heart stopped. There were German vehicles coming in through the gates, this, was the first time they had appeared. She flew down the stairs to warn the other two women, her legs felt as if they would collapse. Piero was out for the day. Cecilia dashed into the kitchen, but Francesca had already seen the Germans.

  “Alright Cecilia calm down,” she said, “we must act normally, they will soon leave, they just want to check we are not harbouring any partisans,” She shrugged “They can go through the house if they should wish, they will find nothing.” There were barked orders in German and looking out the three women noticed troops jumping from one of the vehicles, their rifles in their hands. Some of the troops ran around to the back of the house. The German Officer with two of the troops came up the stairs and banged arrogantly on the glass door with his stick.

  “Open up here.” He shouted.

  Cecilia went forward nervously and let them into the kitchen, he didn’t take his cap off. The two soldiers accompanying him proceeded to walk through the house to search; the women heard one of them going up the stairs. Looking at her and glancing towards Francesca and Ida the German officer ordered.

  “Your papers!” he clicked his fingers. They had grown used to having the documents nearby and they produced these for the German. Cecilia’s hand was trembling and he noticed He looked at her suspiciously.

  “You are nervous?” he barked.

  Although he spoke Italian, it was difficult to understand his guttural pronunciation. She cleared her throat and answered.

  “Yes, I am nervous, you are the first troops we have seen here, but we have nothing to hide Signore.” then she said craftily “While you are studying our papers, can I get you something to drink? Coffee perhaps?”

  “Yes, yes that would be excellent; you Italians have the best coffee.”

  They heard bangs and crashes coming from below, as well as in the house,
Francesca closed her eyes, she knew the troops were in the storeroom, taking all their produce, also in the house going through all their possessions. Cecilia asked the German officer to please take a seat which he did, taking his cap off and putting it on the table and proceeded to examine their documents. Neither Francesca nor Ida had uttered a word. Eventually he finished his coffee and smacked his lips.

  “Ahh. Delicious, I must get on my way,” He announced, leaving their papers on the table. “Maybe I will visit again,” shouting for his soldiers, he stood up, glancing at Cecilia admiringly. “Would you please accompany me to the car Signora?” he asked

  Cecilia looked warily his way “Umm, I…” She didn’t know what excuse she could give, he was sure to be annoyed if she didn’t go down to the car with him. Cecilia glanced at Francesca, who bowed her head slightly. The two soldiers appeared in the kitchen and looking at their officer both shook their heads and proceeded outside. He put his cap on and marched arrogantly out of the kitchen, Cecilia following him. When they reached the vehicles, she noticed the troops had loaded the produce they had confiscated and were ready to depart.

  “I will call back again; maybe we can get to know each other better?” The German leered at her. “My name is Otto Schneider.” he announced, his eyes travelling down her body “Leutenant Otto Schneider.” clicking his heels together he held out his hand.

  Cecilia hesitantly took it, Schneider held on a bit longer than was necessary, eventually he released her hand and glancing at her once more got into the car and barked.

  “Move on.”

  When the cars had pulled out of the driveway, Cecilia returned to the kitchen. They all looked at each other wordlessly. Ida hadn’t uttered a word, through the whole episode, although she was rather pale.

  “Dio Cecilia, you were clever, he didn’t think about anything else once you offered him coffee,” Francesca smiled wryly “Of course, he was very determined to know you better, if you know what I mean.” She grimaced, turning to walk downstairs. “I am going to look at the damage those bastards have done to my stores.”

  Cecilia wrinkled her nose “Yuggh!” she said “I just hope he doesn’t come again. He seems to be getting ideas.”

  They both giggled nervously, Ida looking at them over her specs grunted “Hmph” which made them giggle even more, the tension easing from all their shoulders.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Italy – July 1944

  C ecilia was now working at the little shop two days a week, there wasn’t much to do, but she was learning to bake bread, amongst other duties. Gabriella and Giancarlo, the couple who were owners of the shop, did not seem to have too many customers, they did however have regulars and were striving to keep their little business open as a few people relied on their bread, although there was a shortage of flour. There was also a cow, (which so far, they had been able to hide from the marauding troops.) Managing to supply a small amount of milk.

  Most important was the radio, they would listen to the news at night and whisper the results during the day to the customers and this way Cecilia learnt that the Germans were possibly pulling out of Tuscany, the allies were gaining ground. The daughter of the couple who owned the shop was about fifteen years old, she also helped occasionally and had grown very fond of Cecilia and followed her almost everywhere when they were working, Cecilia liked the girl and she didn’t mind that she had a shadow.

  July 1944, Francesca and Piero decided to clean up the storeroom, Cecilia offered her help and thought she would go to the little shop the next day, the three friends were all relaxing and drinking coffee, the two little boys were playing in the sunshine just inside the doors. Ida had asked Francesca that morning if she could move back into the little apartment. Giorgio and Bernard were sharing a room and they were happy together.

  “I am sure Cecilia will appreciate having her room to herself, and I love it down there.” she told Francesca and Piero. The couple beamed and Francesca said “Si, of course, mi casa su casa.” Ida went down early, armed with a broom and duster and she proceeded busily and happily to clean up her little space.

  Little Giorgio heard the tanks first and lifted his head to listen, looking at his mother he smiled. “Engines.” he piped. They all heard the drone of the huge tanks in the distance and then silence, suddenly there was a loud explosion, followed closely by another.

  Cecilia looked around with terrified eyes.

  “Quickly, quickly, out the back,” she screamed “Ida, Ida,” Cecilia was screeching now “Get out of there, come on, come on.” She picked Bernard up and raced for the doors which were thankfully open. Francesca following with Giorgio.

  Turning to look back Cecilia couldn’t see Piero, where was he?

  Francesca screamed “Piero, dove sei?”

  Handing little Bernard over to Francesca and pushing her out the door Cecilia said

  “Go, go, down to the river, I’ll see where Piero is and we’ll come after you, wait for us.”

  As Francesca was racing towards the river carrying Bernard and dragging Giorgio by the hand, she stumbled and sprawled, grazing her knees, Bernard slipped out of her grasp, he was screaming. “Mama- Mama.” The terrified woman heard an ear-splitting Boom and then a high-pitched whine and another terrible explosion of the shells, one was coming their way. She threw herself over the children; thankfully it flew over their heads to land nearer the river. Water splashed up onto her and the little ones, she was desperately peering through the long grass and dust hoping to see Cecilia, Piero and Ida racing away from the doomed house.

  She raised herself slowly up on her knees and looked towards the house wringing her hands and then there was another direct hit on her home, debris and bricks and glass flying everywhere

  “Dio, (God), they have been killed.” She made the sign of the cross. Her heart thumping, Francesca waited, but all she could hear was the terrible screaming sound of the shells falling all around them, coming towards her and the boys. She hastily ducked down on top of the children. Once again mercifully with an eerie whine it passed over their heads and landed behind the terrified little group.

  Bernard was screaming with fright clutching his knitted bunny ‘Pete” around the neck. Giorgio did not utter a sound. She thought he was unconscious or worse. There was still no sign of her husband or Cecilia and Ida. Gradually she managed to sit up and look around, a shell had landed almost in the river making a large crater and muddy water was filling up the hole. Giorgio then uttered a whimper.

  “Giorgio, are you alright?” Francesca whispered, the child was holding his head, blood trickling through his little fingers.

  “It hurts Mama.” he said. “Ssh,” She consoled him and tried to wipe the blood away with the edge of her dress. When she noticed it was just a small nick and she sighed with relief. “It will be alright bambino; it will stop bleeding in a moment.”

  She noticed everything had grown deathly quiet; she was almost deaf from all the noise. Francesca wanted to go up to the house to investigate, but she was terrified the tanks would start their bombardment again. Cecilia had told her to wait down by the river; she tapped both children on their shoulders and told them to crawl with her “Look!” she whispered, “let us crawl on our bellies down to the water like we are snakes.” As children do, they were enchanted with the idea and keeping very quiet the three of them crawled down to a little hole in the side of the bank, the boys had played there many a time and they were happy to settle down for a while.

  She heard the tanks starting up with a loud roar and bobbed her head up for a quick glance, with a sigh of relief she realized they were pulling out and nobody had come to investigate. She waited and waited, the boys were getting restless. Francesca decided to go up to the house to see if she could find the others. The three of them climbed up the bank and putting her finger to her lips said

  “shhhh. Keep very quiet.” Reaching the house, her heart sank, it was almost destroyed on this side, telling the boys to stay behind she groped her wa
y over the rubble. Dreading what she may see, she managed to peer into a window on the right side of the house; the terrified woman had to be careful not to cut herself on the jagged pieces of glass. There was no sound, even the birds had disappeared. She could not see anything through the settling dust. Just piles of masonry, a wooden beam had fallen on top of the rubble. She searched around, but there was no way she could get inside to check if her husband or Cecilia were underneath all the piles of bricks and wood. Francesca turned around, and groped her way to where she had last seen Ida, but couldn’t get near, the bricks were also piled up against the house, the frames of the glass doors were lying half buried underneath the mess, as far as she could tell there wasn’t a piece of glass left intact. She thought nobody could have survived in that devastation.

  Her tears blinding her, she walked around to the front of the house and she gasped as she reached the stairs up to the kitchen, they had crumbled to rubble, she could not get into the kitchen and she couldn’t get the ladder, it was in the storeroom. Francesca then looked towards the field next to the house, her poor old horse was lying there, dead. She was afraid to investigate further in case she found other bodies. She realized that somebody would arrive sooner or later and was desperately afraid, even her own countrymen may be the enemy. She wasn’t sure. Looking around frantically she saw Piero’s old bicycle leaning against the tree which was still standing forlornly amongst all the devastation. Somehow the rusty old bike had escaped damage. There was a big basket in front of the bicycle, she could put Bernard in that and Giorgio could perch on the cross bar. Francesca looked around once more, listening for sound or sign of life, hoping by some miracle someone in the house had survived. Trembling she opened the garden tap, noticing she had quite a bad cut on her hand which had thankfully stopped bleeding.